


Strong for all it takes

by bev_crusher1971



Series: Never let me down [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Dom/sub, M/M, Roleplay, Spanking, dom!sheriff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-12
Updated: 2016-02-12
Packaged: 2018-05-19 23:32:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5984584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bev_crusher1971/pseuds/bev_crusher1971
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John can't say 'No' when his Deputy asks him to join him on a night in the Club. And discovers things that turn his whole world around and makes him think.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Strong for all it takes

**Author's Note:**

> Some people asked for a part 2 of "Until the next time" and this bunny hopped on my table. And like it or not ... I'm already writing on part 3. ;)
> 
> Beta - as always - my amazing, beloved [counselor69.](http://archiveofourown.org/users/counselor69) my sister in crime. *mwah*

Being not on call with your kid out of the house had its perks, John Stilinski thought, as he opened a bag of sweetened popcorn – usually strictly forbidden by said kid – and chose a romantic comedy on his DVR. Watching these were his guilty pleasure, and he only dared to watch them when he was home alone, otherwise the teasing would be endless (hey, there was nothing wrong with Maid in Manhatten, okay?).

He was twenty minutes into his film when the doorbell interrupted him. With a frown he stopped the movie, walked over to the front door and peaked through the peephole.

Surprised, he opened the door .

“Deputy,“ he greeted the young man in front of him, “can I help you?“

Jordan Parrish seemed to be nervous, and - John's eyes scanned him quickly from head to toe – he was very obviously dressed to kill. He was also staring very intently at his feet when suddenly he took a deep breath.

“I'm heading off to the Club and wanted to ask you if you would … could consider to join me … look after me if you like.”

John was astonished, then a warm feeling spread through him. He could only imagine the courage it must have taken the man to come to him with this request. Before he could answer though, Parrish continued, apparently his nerves were getting the best of him. “I know you're not on call and that this is your evening off and I could totally understand it when you say no, and … “

Before he could dig himself a hole, John grabbed him by the wrist, quieting him instantly and pulled him inside.

“Give me five minutes to change,” he grumbled, “then we can go.”

An expression of utter relief washed over the Deputy's face, and for the first time since arriving on John's doorstep, he smiled. “Thank you, Sheriff,” he said heartfelt, and John tried to ignore that the warmth he had felt moments ago suddenly seemed to pool a little too south for his liking.

~*~

When they arrived at the Club around half an hour later, Jordan instinctivly walked in front of the Sheriff, just like he had been trained to do. He joked with Michael who opened them the door, stepped inside, took a quick look around until he found them a nice booth a little off the main floor. He turned around and cast a questioning gaze at the Sheriff. Pointing at the empty table he asked, “How about that over there?”

The older man nodded, and together they sat down. Then Jordan jumped up again. “What do you want to drink?” he asked, remembering his duties as a sub. Even if the Sheriff wasn't his dom, he was here with him tonight, and Jordan owed it to him to treat him the way he deserved, which was with the utmost respect.

The Sheriff shrugged a little helplessly, and Jordan smiled. “Beer okay?” When the Sheriff nodded, he walked over to the bar, laughing in delight when he saw the bartender.

“Sammie?” he said happily. “What are you doing here?”

The tall, dark – blonde haired man smiled back and reached over to give him a handshake but stopped in the last second.

“You here with someone?” he asked carefully, looking around as if searching for someone who would be trying to kill him for touching his sub without permission.

“Just my boss,” Jordan smiled and bounced on his feet. Because he knew – just KNEW – when Sammie was here then it could mean only one thing.

A moment later a strong hand landed on his shoulder, and a deep, grovely voice purred in his ear, “Hey, my boy. Missed me?”

~*~

John watched his surroundings, took in the people around him. The men in black leather, the women in sometimes little more than their underwear, sometimes in shining latex. He heard moans, groans, the sound of whipping, soft cries, loud cries.

When his eyes searched for his Deputy, he found him at the bar, talking to an incredibly tall man with dimples. They exchanged a few words but when the tall guy wanted to shake Parrish's hand, he hesitated in the last second.

A man about his own age approached them from behind, put his hand on the Deputy's shoulder and murmured something in his ear.

With big eyes, John noticed the immediate change in his employee's behaviour. Parrish whirled around, gazed for a long moment at the man now in front of him, and then he lowered his egaze and pressed his forehead to the older man's shoulder.

The man with the salt – and – pepper beard put his hand into Jordan's neck, pressed slighty, and suddenly all the tension seemed to leave the young man's body.

After a few more whispered words they left and John could only stare at the place where moments earlier his deputy had been. When he turned slighty to the left, his eyes found the eyes of the tall man. They held the gaze for a few moments then the tall man said something to his colleague, grabbed two beers, removed the towel from around his waist and came over to John.

He sat the bottles down and dropped into a chair without waiting for an invitation. “Hi,” he greeted with a big, dimpled smile, “I'm Sam.”

He reached out his hand, and almost on instinct, John took the hand and shook it. “John,” he introduced himself.

The smile on Sam's face changed slightly, and he nodded with a knowing grin. “John,” he said, “of course.”

And John didn't understand a thing.

~*~

“I'm sorry, Sheriff,” Jordan murmured while strong hands undressed him.

“What for, boy?” the gruff voice asked.

“I made … bad decisions.”

A soft chuckle followed that statement. “Don't we all sometimes, sweetheart?”

Jordan smiled softly. “Yeah, I guess so. But this time it was really bad. Like: bad dom bad.” Then he shivered mightily when a rough fingertip traced one of the fading scars on his back.

“I see,” the older man answered, and a kiss was pressed to the scar. “Do you think you need to be punished, boy?”

“I need ...”Jordan began but interrupted himself, bowing his head.

“What do you need, boy? Tell your Sheriff.” The last sentence was an order, and Jordan replied to it immediately.

“I need salvation of you, Sheriff,” he answered breathy and closed his eyes.

“Look at me, boy,” the man said strongly and instinctivly Jordan raised his head and looked directly at the man who meanwhile had changed into a Sheriff's uniform.  
But it wasn't any Uniform.  
It was a Beacon Hills Sheriff's uniform, and he really didn't want to know where he got it. Slowly, his Sheriff stepped closer and breathed softly across his sub's mouth.

“I'll give you what you need, boy.”

With a sigh, Jordan Parrish gave himself over to the capable hands of John Winchester.

~*~

Sam could see the nervousness in John's posture, and smiled to himself. The fact that he had accompanied Jordan to this club spoke volumes in his opinion. His boss. Yeah sure. Because every boss visited a BDSM Club with his subordinate.

His sub, yes.

His subordinate … not so much.

But he could also tell that this John was growing more and more nervous, and in the end he said to his colleague at the bar, “Hey Frank, can I take a quick break?”

Frank looked over at him, and nodded. “Yeah, it's quiet at the moment. Take ten.”

“Thank's, man,” Sam answered, grabbed two bottles of beer and walked over to the table where John waited.

He stopped at the table, put the beers down and made himself comfortable in the chair opposite the man. “Hi,” he said with one of his biggest and – as he hoped – most harmless smiles. “I'm Sam.” He reached out his hand, and after a moment of hesitation the other man took it.

“I'm John,” he replied, shaking Sam's hand firmly.

“John,” Sam's grin turned a bit impish, “of course.”

John looked a little irritated. “Can I help you, Sam?”

Sam leaned back and examined the older man. It took him less than ten seconds to realize that John was totally out of his depth here. And even though it sounded weird – even in his own head – he wanted to protect that guy. He nodded over to the bar and said, “You wanna sit with me at the bar? We can chat a bit and maybe I can answer a few questions for you. I can see that this is not your normal Saturday Night amusement.”

John laughed self-consciuosly. “That obvious, huh?”

Sam nodded, never losing his smile.

Then John grew serious again, his gaze flitting back to the door through which Jordan had gone. “Shouldn't I wait here for Parrish … for Jordan to ...”

“To come back?” Sam finished the sentence, and John nodded. “No, you don't. Don't worry. I know that guy he's with.” He saw John's indecisiveness and continued, “Jordan will be taken good care of. And as far as I know your Deputy … that might take a while.” Here he gave the other man a conspiratorial wink.

“So,” John murmured, “you know him well?”

It was half question, half statement, and Sam chose to take it as a question.

“As well as someone can know anybody in here,” he answered truthfully. “But I know that he's safe with the guy he's with right now. So don't worry.”

“You sure?”

“Very,” Sam answered with conviction. Then he couldn't hold back the smirk any longer. “The guy he's with? That's my dad.”

John snorted and nearly dropped his bottle. “He's what?” he coughed incredulously.

“He's my dad. So I can guarantee you that your Deputy's 100% safe with him.” Sam watched the man closely when he said 'your Deputy' for the second time and noted the lack of protest. So he decided to push a little more. “You can look for youself if you don't believe me,” he mentioned off-handedly. And grinned internally when John listened up.

“I can?” he asked, trying and failing spectacularly not to look too interested. Sam got up and gestured to the door.

“Come on,” he said, “I'll show you. Maybe in this case, seeing really is believing.”

~*~

'What the hell am I doing here?'

It was a question that was runnig through his head in an endless loop. Ever since his Deputy had showed up at his doorstep wearing the hopeful expression of a puppy. Then when he had agreed to accompany his Deputy to this place. Followed by him stepping in this club.

And now here he stood at a two-way mirror, watching a guy his age dressed in a Beacon Hills Sheriff's uniform (his mind took a break at that, delivering a hearty “WTF”?). Saw Deputy Jordan Parrish kneel at his feet, naked, wearing only a black leather collar. And as he looked closer, he saw an expression on the Deputy's face that he had never seen before.

It was the deep-seated want to serve this man at whose feet he was kneeling and to be his forever.

John swallowed. “So, tell me,” the man on the other side of the mirror said with a gruff voice, “what happened that you feel the need to be punished by your Sheriff.”

Jordan Parrish licked his lips and without his eyes ever leaving the other man's face he began to talk.

Told him the story that had brought him, John, here in the first place. The bad dom. The bloody beating. The ignored safeword (with satisfaction John noticed the almost-growl the other man uttered at that). The missing aftercare. And then Markus calling him, John, to help him.

“They didn't want to let me go on my own although I really would have been able to look after myself,” he finished.

A big hand gently caressed the young man's hand, and the Fake-Sheriff asked, “But wasn't it better with your Sheriff being there and doing it for you?”

John watched Jordan closely, and he noted that for the first time the man closed his eyes longer than it took him to blink. “Yes, Sheriff,” he finally answered softly.

“Would you wish for your Sheriff to be in my place, boy?”

Involuntarily, John leaned a little closer to the mirror. Somehow the answer to that question seemed extremely important.

“Yes, Sir,” Jordan breathed barely audible, and the Sheriff's heart stuttered for a second before it returned to his usual rhythm. With a slight gasp, he stepped back from the mirror, and found himself under the curious gaze of the young bartender.

“You didn't know?” Sam asked, and he seemed to be really surprised. John shook his head. No, he hadn't known. All those comments the Deputy had made in the solitude of John's living room when had lain over his lap like an overgrown child, clinging to him, cuddling him, had been the endorphins from earlier in that night talking, right? There was no way he could've meant what he'd said. Those mumbled half sentences about 'wish you could've seen me', about 'you'd have been so proud of me'.

About 'would've loved to look into your eyes when he fucked me'. The last one uttered at the brink of sleep.

A slight nudge from Sam brought his attention back to the mirror and to what happened on the other side while he'd had his internal mini freak-out. The man in the uniform, Sam's father, was still standing in front of the Deputy who was gazing into the other man's eyes again and who had continued to speak.

“But I know he will never … be that for me. He can't. He simply doesn't have it in him to hurt another person. Not even if it's for the other person's pleasure.”

Sam's father was still caressing him, stroking him, encouraging him to speak about his desires. “Does he have to?”

Parrish shook his head. “No,” he answered truthfully, “I'd be happy if he punishes me any other way when I've done something wrong. I think he could let me stand in the corner like an unruly child and I'd do it without complaining, knowing it would make him proud. Knowing it would please him. Knowing he would forgive me.”

John pressed his forehead against the cool glass of the mirror. He was so confused. This evening was not going the way it had been planned. He should be at home, watching Jennifer Lopez fall in love with Ralph Fiennes, waiting for Michael to eventually call him to come and get the Deputy (come and get your boy, the voice inside his head whispered) instead of standing like a creep behind a two way mirror, watching another man in *his* uniform satisfy his Deputy.

“Did you ever tell him?”

The short laugh that followed was almost a bark, and John winced. “No,” he answered that question for himself, murmuring quietly so Sam couldn't hear him, “he didn't. If only I had known ...” He trailed off, listening again in onto the conversation in the other room. Where Jordan apparently had given the same answer.

“He doesn't understand.” For a moment his face was sad, and John wished that he could be what the other man so obviously needed. “He's trying though,” Jordan hastily added, “he's amazing. He has already picked me up four times.” A little smile flitted over the young man's face when he admitted, “The last time I even told the dom that he shouldn't be bothered with the after-care just so Michael would call the Sheriff.”

So that explained the almost giddy state he had found the Deputy in, the last time he'd come to get him. Explained why a stranger had given him a dirty look, scowling at him when he had walked through the Club with a pliant and extremely cuddly Deputy plastered to his side. That must've been the dom who had given his Deputy what he, John, couldn't. And then he wasn't even allowed to reap the benefits from all his hard work.

“If it was him instead of me,” the imposter in his uniform murmured, “what would you like to do now? Just pretend for a moment that I'm him.”

A shiver ran over the naked form of the Deputy, and he closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, there was pure adoration in them and John swallowed thickly. He had never seen the younger man with such an open, vulnerable, honest expression.

“Sheriff, Sir, please may I suck you?” The voice was low but intent, and the other man nodded.

“Yes, my boy, you may.”

With steady fingers he opened the uniform's trousers, pulling them down just enough that the hard cock was freed. No underwear, John noted, and then he turned away. A scene came to his mind. The first time the Deputy had lain on his lap, his, John's, question, 'You've been a good boy?' and the young man's answer that this was normally an invitation.

An invitation no doubt to exactly this. A moan caused him to turn back to the mirror, and only barely did he register Sam leaving him alone. Didn't hear the soft 'snick' of the door behind him. Captivated by the picture in front of him.

For a brief moment he let himself wonder what it might feel like if it really would be him on the other side of the mirror. He watched his Deputy sucking the fake-sheriff's cock with enthusiasm, moaning happily, and in looking a little closer he saw that the young man was hard.

How would it feel to close his fingers around the hard flesh? To stroke the young man to completion? Would he gasp his name when he finally came? Would he call out Master? Or John? Or Sheriff?

Absentmindedly, he adjusted himself in his trousers, and only when he touched himself did he notice that he was hard, too.

The imposter meanwhile held Jordan's head between his head, pushing his erection into the kneeling man's mouth over and over again and Jordan just *took* it. His hands rested on the strong thighs of the standing man who fucked his face with abandon, his eyes were closed and he looked blissed out.

“God, boy, you're so perfect,” the other man gritted out, drove deep inside the Deputy's mouth, and just stayed there for a moment before he slowly moved back. John saw the young man gasp for breath before the cock dove in again.

John knew he should go. Knew that it just wasn't right to stand here and watch his Deputy pleasuring another man. (It could be you, was a murmur in his head.) He tried to turn around when a broken moan from the other room made him stay. The man in the uniform held Parrish's head against his groin and from the lustful look on his face (and the fact that the Deputy was swallowing), John guessed that he was coming.

So this was it? Was it over now? Was there no … spanking this time? No whipping? No … beating?

John decided to stay and watch some more. Just to make sure that his Deputy was safe of course.

~*~

Jordan swallowed the bitter load with pleasure, marveling in the fact that he had made his master come. His master. His Sheriff for tonight. John Winchester wasn't too often in town. He and his boys were always on the road, hunting demons, vampires and other rogue creatures that were a threat for the innocent. But when he was around, Jordan knew that he would spent at least one day more after the job to visit this club.

And tonight he was his. His Sheriff who would give him what he needed. He had been careless with that violent dom. Hadn't been listening to the whispered warnings, had ignored the careful glances. Later on, when the whip had been coming down on his back again and again and his cries of 'werewolf, god, stop it, werewolf, you bastard, WEREWOLF!' had gone unnoticed, he had finally understood. This man was bad. Like real, human-bad. And sometimes human-bad was worse than supernatural-creature-bad.

His Sheriff had taken him home after that … incident. Had talked to him, listened to him but never punished him for making that bad decision in the first place. Apparently he thought that he was punished enough, considering he wasn't able to move without a wince for a few days afterwards.

But that wasn't the same.

“So,” Winchester's voice interrupted his thoughts, “now let's talk about your punishment, boy.”

A happy shiver ran over Jordan's body. “Yes, Master,” he replied.

“After you behaved like an unruly little boy I think I must punish you like one, don't you think, son?”

Jordan closed his eyes, took a deep breath and opened his eyes again. “Yes, Sheriff.”

“I think I will spank you.” Warmth spread through Jordan and he nodded happily. “Yes, Sheriff.”

“So there are two ways we can do this, son,” his Sheriff told him, “I can put you over my knees like a little boy, or you can stand over there at the cross like a grown-up.”

Jordan knew that this was his Master's decision now and that his opinion was not needed or wanted right now. So he remained quiet, corrected himself slightly so that he was in the perfect posture. All the while he could feel John's eyes on him. Of course he knew what he himself preferred. He wanted, sometimes even needed the body contact. And laying over his Sheriff's lap, he would have just that. Could feel him, smell him, could maybe even rut slightly against him until he would get another, harsher slap to stop the rubbing.

The cross wasn't quite as personal, on the other hand did it allow the older man to press against him from head to toe if he wanted to. The slaps would be a lot harder for the Sheriff could lunge so much more which would make the sting so much harder. And the pain so much sweeter.

Suddenly John clapped into his hands, and said, “Twenty over my lap, son. Come here!” His knees weak with relief, Jordan got up.

~*~

John Stilinski couldn't avert his eyes as his Deputy got up, walked over to the older man and gracefully placed himself over his lap, looking for all the world like a little kid getting punished by his dad. He winced when the first slap hit the young man's buttocks. Then the second and the third. The man in the uniform wasn't gentle and each slap seemed to be a little bit harder than the one before. Jordan counted them out aloud, and John did the same in his head.

After slap number ten Jordan's voice broke slightly, at fifteen he was barely holding back the sobs and John could see that his Deputy's backside was a dark shade of pink. When the couple reached twenty, the Deputy was openly crying, repeating over and over again how sorry he was, how he would never ever make that mistake again and it almost broke John's heart to hear that. He watched with rapt attention as the older man gently stroked over the bruised flesh of his Deputy's backside, could imagine how hot it had to be to the touch. He flexed and unflexed his finger involuntarily, yearning to soothe the bruised flesh.

Sobbing, the Deputy crawled into the other man's lap, hugging him tightly, while the older man gently caressed his back, calmed him down with deeply grumbled words, barely audible sentences murmured directly into the young man's ear. And slowly, so slowly, the sobbing stopped, turned to a hitched breathing, until he was quiet again. The storm was over.

“You alright, son?” John heard the older man ask and watched as his Deputy nodded. Then heat slammed into him when Jordan asked with a needy voice, “Will you fuck me now, daddy? Please?”

His own reaction to this words surprised him. He shouldn't feel this aroused by the image of the young man sinking down on a cock (your cock), moaning 'Daddy' again and again. He sat down, grateful that there was a chair in easy reach.

He hadn't been prepared for this. For this intense longing after someone to care for.

Stiles was growing up so fast, sooner or later he would leave him, move in together with his werewolf or with someone else. Sooner rather than later. How would it be if he had someone to care for once Stiles left him? How would it be to have another 'son' to care for, not in the typical father/son sense but in the 'I'm always there for you' sense?

How would it be to come home to Jordan Parrish after work?

Or to drive into work with him in the morning? Have breakfast together. Cook together. Fall asleep together.

John got up. He couldn't stay. Couldn't watch anymore. He had to go back to the mainroom before he did something stupid. Like walk inside this room, deck that wrong Sheriff and pull the Deputy from the other man's cock into his arms and claim him. Quietly he left the little room and returned to his place at the bar, steadily ignoring the knowing grins this Sam-guy was giving him and the – sometimes very bold – advances from other guests. He waited for nearly an hour more while his brain supplied him with vivid pictures of how Jordan had looked the moment he had sunken down on the big cock, how he had moaned 'Daddy', how his eye had shone while he'd been kneeling at the older man's feet.

When he finally got him 'back' – so to speak – his Deputy wore once again a stupidly happy grin on his face and seemed to be almost tripping over his own feet, blissed out on a sexual high.

On his way home, he was severly tempted to reach over and take the young man's hand. But he still seemed to be somewhere else. At least he thought so until at a red light the Deputy suddenly seemed to tip sideways and his head came to rest on the Sheriff's shoulder. Without thinking, he rested his cheek on the young man's head and murmured, “Was he good to you?”

“Amazing,” Jordan breathed dreamily. Then, a little quieter, barely audible over the soft music coming from the radio, “Wish you could have seen me.”

He had to talk to him. John knew that he couldn't keep this a secret. He drove into his driveway, shut down the car and helped his Deputy who was still riding high on endorphins out of the car and into his house. It was late he noticed. Too late to cuddle on the sofa the way they normally did. Too late to bring him down gently here in the living room with the TV humming quietly in the background. Too late *not* to pull him upstairs and shove him gently into the bathroom with the words, “We're going to bed. Get yourself ready, sweetheart.” Too late not to pull him close about ten minutes later while the young man clung to him like an octopus.

Too late not to fall for him.

~*~

Jordan awoke slowly, mostly because a big, strong hand stroked up and down his back. He stretched languidly, enjoyed the caresses and cuddled closer to the warmth next to him. To the body that kept the early morning sun from blinding him. It didn't occur to him to think about who it was that was sharing the bed with him until he heard a low, grumbling voice ask softly, “Hey, sleepyhead. You coming around?”

It wasn't the first time he woke up to the sound of the Sheriff's voice. Or the touch of the Sheriff's hand on his body. But it was the first time that there wasn't the back of the couch behind him but the body of another man. Of the Sheriff. And it was the first time that he was in a bed. And not just anybody's bed but the Sheriff's bed. He sat up quickly once his brain managed to process this news.

“Sheriff?” he asked, hating how insecure and yet needy his voice sounded. The older man rested beside him in the bed, propped up on one elbow, wearing dark boxers and a simple t-shirt. His face was gentle when he asked, “You slept good, son?”

Involuntarly, Jordan yawned and nodded. In his sleepy state he wanted nothing more than to drop down again, go back to that happy place John Winchester had put him in last night but he also knew that he had to be awake and in the here and now to go back home and back to his real life. A soft sound from the Sheriff brought his attention back to the older man who was still laying comfortable next to him. “How about I'll go and make our coffee now?” The question was so perfectly normal that he took a deep breath. The relief on Jordan's face must have been obvious for the Sheriff snorted before giving him a gentle push. “Bathroom, now,” he ordered, “and I'll go to downstairs.”

Jordan went to the bathroom like he had been ordered and when he closed the door behind him and turned to the sink, he noted the third toothbrush that was laying next to the Sheriff's. And knowing that the Sheriff bought him his own toothbrush made him smile.

~*~

John raised his coffeemug and emptied it half in one go. He wasn't in any hurry for luckily Stiles knew that Jordan tended to stay over night occasionally. And surprisingly enough, he was totally okay with it. John stepped to the window and gazed outside, thinking back to a similar morning a few weeks ago.

_John had fallen asleep with Jordan curled up against him. It was nice. Comfortable. Familiar. Michael had called last night at around midnight and John had gone to fetch his happy, endorphin-high Deputy. With the words, “He really likes you, you know?” Michael had removed Jordan's arm from around his shoulder and had draped him across John's._

_“Yeah? Why do you think that?” John had asked back, smiling when his Deputy had pressed his face into his shoulder, taking a deep breath._

_“Ever since you picked him up the first time, he barely worries about after-care anymore. Usually he tells us to call you the moment he starts a scene.”_

_It had surprised John but on the other hand it had also pleased him, and with a short nod and a “See you next time,” he had taken his heavy load and had dragged him to his car. They had cuddled up together on the sofa like they had did so many times before but this time John had fallen asleep without managing to go to his own bed._

_Only to be awoken the next morning by the voice of his kid, yelling, “DAAAA..:” and a very VERY aprupt stop, probably because someone was pressing a hand to his kid's mouth. He heard an irritated noise, some whispering and seconds later he saw Stile's head appear over the back of the sofa, cooing, “Oh god, isn't that the cutest thing ever? Derek, look … Dad and Jordan cuddling.”_

_Both came around and sat down on the table in front of the couch. He raised his eyebrows at that (“Tables are not made for you to sit on! We have CHAIRS for that!”) and got a raised eyebrow in return, together with the words, “So is this why you never have a problem with me staying over at Derek's? You call your Deputy over for a little …. “_

_“DON'T say it!” John gritted out, thanking God that the young man slept like a dead and didn't even stir once during this little talk. “I'll explain everything later. Now let me wake him up so I can send him home.”_

_“Aaaawww,” Stiles grinned, “you don't have to send him away on my account. How about you, sourwolf?” He poked Derek with an elbow and simply got a little growl as response. Then Derek surprised John by gripping Stiles on one arm, moving him to the door, mumbling, “We go and get breakfast. Be back in about twenty. That enough time?”_

_Surprised, John nodded and breathed a deep sigh of relief when the door closed behind his son and his werewolf._

_Waking Jordan up and sending him on his way with a strong cup of coffee took him about fifteen minutes. Like always, Jordan didn't seem to want to linger and as soon as he had his normal fix of coffee in his system, he was off with a cheerful, “Thank's, Sheriff. See you at the station.”_

_The time until his son and his boyfriend would return seemed to stretch. But when they came barging in again, laying the table, unpacking the breakfast, and when they finally sat down to eat, Stiles stared at his Dad, expecting an explanation._

_John took a deep breath and started to talk. Told him everything from the first call of Michael up to last night. When he was finished, he took a sip from his coffee and waited for Stiles' reaction._

_Which was not in the slightest what he had been expecting. “So, you two are dating?”_

_Promptly, the coffee went down the wrong way and Derek helpfully patted his back while John tried to cough his lungs free again. “What?” croaked he finally._

_“I asked, are you dating? It sounds pretty serious to me when he calls you again and again. And you go and pick him up again and again. He always stays the night?”_

_John nodded a little dumbstruck. “So why did you kick him out like that this morning? Because of us?”_

_Another nod and this time a little selfdepricating smile. “Look at me, kid. Look what I am. I'm an old warhorse who has his best times behind him. And he's a young man who still has his whole life ahead of him.”_

_“Bullshit,” Derek announced suddenly and John stared at him narrow-eyed._

_“What?” he growled and Derek looked up from his croissant and repeated, “Bullshit!” The werewolf put his croissant down and stared John in the eyes. And while his words were pretty harsh, his voice was almost gentle, “You're an idiot. You are not old. Or a warhorse. You're a man in your best years and every guy would be happy to date you. But you're an idiot when you think you're not worth him.”_

_Stiles and John stared open-mouthed at the werewolf who picked up his croissant again and resumed eating. After a moment of silence, Stiles pointed with his thumb at Derek and said, “What he said, dad.”_

_“So you wouldn't mind me … dating him?” John stumbled a little over the word dating. But then both boys nodded and the knot in John's stomach dissappeared suddenly._

“Sheriff?” broke his Deputy's voice through his thoughts and John turned around. The young man stood in the doorway, smiling, like so many mornings before and involuntarily John smiled back. He pointed with his mug to the table. “Coffee's on the table,” he said and laughed when the young man practically jumped at his coffee and took his first sip with a happy sigh.

“Why don't you ever want breakfast?” John suddenly asked. Parrish looked a little irritated at first then he blushed slightly and lowered his head.

“I don't want to outlive my welcome here,” he murmured into his cup. John was surprised for this was definitely not the answer he had expected to hear.

“You don't,” he finally said after a long pause, gazing down into his own cup. “I'd like to have breakfast with you.”

Although he was the Sheriff, in that moment he was almost afraid to look at the young man and was relieved when he heard him say, “In that case … scrambled eggs or over easy?”

And suddenly it was that easy.

~*~

It was easy for the next three weeks. Three weeks without any serious incident, without any supernatural creature raising its head (except for the known Beacon Hills residents) and without any people gone missing. Then a simple traffic check went terribly south and at the end of the day he had one wounded Deputy – thank God not Jordan – two wounded suspects (one severely, one light), two completely demolished squad cars and a Deputy Parrish who hadn't followed his Sheriff's explicit order over the radio to wait for backup.

Parrish who was creeping into the station with 'guilty conscience' written all over himself. Who had drawn his weapon although John had told him *not* to and to wait for him. Who had opened fire on the suspects in the car that had been registered as stolen and whose inhabitants had been armed and stoned up to their eyeballs.

Now Parrish was trying to sink through the floor or at the very least to become one with the furniture just so the Sheriff wouldn't see him.

John sighed deeply and covered his eyes with his hand for a second. It had been a tiring day and while he knew that Parrish had acted on the impuls to protect his colleagues, it had been a rookie mistake. One that shouldn't have happened. But it was also one that could be forgiven. Should be forgiven. Normally would be forgiven by him pretty soon but now he knew a little better how his Deputy ticked. Knew that while he, John, would forget this whole thing in a few days, Jordan wouldn't. The young man would carry it around with himself, locked tightly deep within his heart until one day it would become too much and he would feel the need to be punished to be forgiven.

Suddenly John knew that he had to do anything about that. That he couldn't wait until the young man would break down again. He was Jordan's Sheriff, his boss and he was the one responsible for the young Deputy's actions. He cleared his throat and felt all his Deputies' eyes on him. “I expect your reports in an hour on my desk,” he said loud, “then you can go home.” He received noddings and 'Yes, Sir's!' from all sides. He stepped into his office and closed the door behind himself. He knew that he had about an hour time to prepare his office accordingly.

Fifty-one minutes later he had every report on his desk except for one. He raised his head and saw Parrish still typing furiously. He began to tap his desk impatiently and wondered for what felt like the fiftieth time if his decision was the right one.

One minute before his deadline, a stressed looking Deputy hurried inside his office, handing him the print-outs from his report who would simultaneously be sitting in his email inbox as John knew.

“Sorry for being late, Sir,” Jordan said stiffly and John knew – KNEW – that he had to do something. He cast a quick gaze at the cushion in the corner and said quietly, “Close the door behind you, Deputy.”

When he noticed that Parrish wanted to leave the office, he added, “From the inside, if you please.”

Parrish stopped at the door with a hand on the handle and his back to the Sheriff. Then he closed the door very slowly. And remained with his back to the Sheriff.

“I'm sorry, Sheriff,” he finally murmured without turning around.

John got up and stepped closer to the young man. “Not yet,” he breathed softly when he stood directly behind him, “but you will be. Now close the blinds,” and after a few seconds pause he added, “boy!”

A mighty shiver ran through Jordan, seemed to make the man tremble but he followed the orders with a strong, “Yes, Sir!”

After all the blinds were drawn, John took a deep breath. A few weeks prior he wouldn't have known what to do but the night in the club where he watched the young man and his dom had been an eye-opener and it had also given him some ideas how to handle tricky situations. Without the slightest hint of hesitation in his voice he said, “Look at me, boy.”

Jordan turned around so quickly that for a moment John was afraid the young man would give himself whiplash. “Sir?” he gasped then he cast his eyes downward.

“You really made a mess today, boy,” John said, feeling more secure with every word he said. Jordan trembled again and nodded, “Yes, Sir.” John could see that it seemed to take him a lot of effort to keep upright, so he laid a hand on his shoulder and pressed down.

Almost effortlessly, Jordan fell down to his knees, taking on the pose John had seen the last time.

“You could have get someone killed today, boy, and do you know why?”

“I didn't follow your orders, Sir, and didn't wait for backup.” The answer came without hesitation.

John nodded. That was it pretty much in a nutshell.

“Look over at the corner, boy. Do you see the pillow?”

Jordan followed his orders and nodded. “Now, I want you to go over there and kneel there with your hands behind your back until I'll go home. In that time you can think about what has happened today. You can think about your mistakes and you can think of ways to avoid them in the future. When I tell you that we go home, you can get up and be sure that you're punished enough. And that you're forgiven, considering you won't make the same mistake again.”

Jordan's head shot up for a second but was down again just as fast and he nodded vigorously. “Yes, Sheriff!” he mumbled and tried to get up when a hand on his shoulder stopped him. “What's your safeword, boy?”

John could feel how the young man took a deep breath and answered, “Werewolf, Sir.”

John smirked. For a town like Beacon Hills, this was oddly fitting.

“Off to your corner now,” he smiled, “your pillow awaits you.”

~*~

As he sank down on the pillow, all his thoughts seemed to come to a screeching halt. The whole day, ever since that disastrous traffic control, his thoughts had been running wild in his head, had his brain fed him with all kinds of worst-case scenarios in which him getting fired had been the most harmless one.

Now he was kneeling in a corner facing the wall in his Sheriff's office and could feel himself finally coming to rest. He took a deep breath and felt himself slowly fall into his own mind. Another deep breath. He had disappointed his Sheriff, his master and this was his punishment.

Breath in. Out.

His eyes closed on their own accord. It had been an avoidable mistake. He had been too fast, too rushed. Had wanted too damned much to impress his Sheriff.

In. Out.

It was a mistake that he would never ever make again. The next time he was told to wait for backup, he would wait for backup.

In. Out.

When a hand landed on his shoulder he was deep in subspace and didn't even startle. He just looked up with shining eyes at his master.

“Sheriff,” he breathed.

“Come on,” the Sheriff said, “I'll take you home.”

Jordan got up and stumbled slightly, his knees felt as weak as a newborn kitten's. “How long?” he slurred, pressing himself close to the heavenly warmth of his Sheriff.

“About two hours,” came the grumbled reply, “jeez, kid, never thought you would make it longer than half an hour.”

“I can be good,” Jordan mumbled, tempted to lick at the soft patch of skin that was so close to his mouth.

“I know,” the other man answered, tightening his grip around his shoulder as he led him over to the chair. There the Sheriff sat down and pulled him onto his lap. With a happy sigh, Jordan cuddled close to him.

“I'm sorry for everything that went wrong today, Sheriff,” Jordan mumbled, his mouth getting closer and closer to the skin that was so warm and smelled to good. It took him only a second more and he touched it softly with the tip of his tongue.

“Will you do it again?” He felt him more than he heard him and shook vigorously his head.

“Never ever again, Sheriff.”

“Good.” A soft pat was delivered to his backside. “Because the next time you pull a stunt like this I might be forced to spank you.”

A mighty shiver ran over his body and he clung even closer to the strong man. Now this wasn't really an incentive *not* to make that mistake again.

~*~

John felt the shiver and smiled. Yeah, he knew. Knew that the prospect of a healthy spanking wasn't necessarily something that would keep his boy in check. He cast a quick glance at his watch and gave the young man on his lap a gentle nudge without dislodging him.

“You're back with me?” he asked, keeping his voice still soft.

Jordan grumbled something unintelligible, stretched himself and opened his eyes to look at him. The soft, distant look was gone from his eyes and he seemed a bit more focused. “Yeah, Sheriff. On my way.”

And when the young man tried to disentangle himself from him, John let him. He wanted to know if this had been enough for him. If the punishment had been one that would let him forgive himself but he didn't know how to ask. Before he could even think of a way to ask, Jordan turned around, knelt once more down before him in perfect posture and said earnestly, “Thank you, Sheriff.” Then he pressed a quick kiss to John's right hand that was resting on his knee and got up again. With a smile John accepted the hand the young man reached out to him and got up. Then he scratched himself a little nervous behind his neck.

“So, you fit to drive or do you want me to take you somewhere?”

Preferably home with me, just so I can make sure you're okay. Of course he didn't say that out loud.

“More or less, Sheriff,” Parrish answered and then he smiled. “Think I could get a little more of your famous after-care, Sir?”

With a relieved huff, John smiled and nodded. When he got in his car after making sure his boy was strapped in correctly, he asked, “Breakfast tomorrow?”

The beaming smile was answer enough and John couldn't help but reciprocate it when he started the car.

The End


End file.
